Roads
by mskiki
Summary: Set after season four episode four. Carol on the road, a few familiar faces, and a decision that looms before her. Do you keep going or do you look behind when the world's changed you so much?


She was at the grave again. As much as she tried to pretend she didn't think of it, that her child was a million miles awhile, tucked into another lifetime she left behind when the world spun on axis and changed her, she couldn't stop being there. She couldn't stop being at the grave, even if only in her mind. That thing in the ground was the closet she had to her baby, after all.

You didn't stop being a mother just because your child died.

She tried to pretend she was strong enough to leave her behind. To leave all of it behind. She didn't need to be connected to that world anymore.

But maybe a little weakness was what she needed before she soldiered on. One last look at her baby, one last flower left at the foot of a grave made too small and too soon. One last moment before she had to be strong again. It was okay, at the moment, to be by the grave.

Besides, she was waiting after all.

* * *

The drive was quiet. Too quiet, really. Carol had grown used to the hum of background noise at the prison as kids played and adults worked and life was lived. She was used to the conversations and sounds of the animals in their pins. The footfalls of someone walking down the hallway and Judith's babbling as she played in the corner. Her world had become a noisier place since her little community had expanded.

She paused, hands tightening on the wheel. Not her community. Not anymore.

She'd known from the moment Rick asked her to come with him that this would be the outcome. She'd be gone. Dead or banished, in either case gone. But what she knew in her head she couldn't accept in her heart. It had believed he'd forgive her, accept her, take in account all they'd been through together and work something out. Her heart said she'd be going home.

She knew better. Thinking with your heart was outdated in today's world.

Still didn't make the drive away any easier.

She was leaving so much behind.

Lizzie and Micah, those poor girls had no one left for them. She was supposed to be caring for them. She'd promised to care for them. And with Lizzie ill and scared and so in need of comfort, she needed to be there. Every mothering instinct in her screamed to turn the car around and go back to those girls.

There was Hershel, who'd need help with the patients when the medicine came back. He had Dr. S and Bob, but she knew she could be useful. Maggie could use her help at the fences, Carl was just now back on the mend from his breakdown, the kids still needed a teacher.

There was Judith, still just a baby. Beth would care for her, Carol knew that. But she'd been helping with that baby since Daryl had found her and she couldn't imagine being away now.

And Daryl, there was Daryl…

She had to stop thinking, had to stop the sting of tears at her eyes and the heaviness in her chest. She had to think. Had to use her head. She was going to survive. She had to survive. She'd come too far for anything else.

Carol slowed the car, eyes sharp and focused on the road.

She had to think ahead. Those supplies Rick left her were meager at best and the gas wouldn't last long. The light wouldn't last much longer. She had to find someplace to bunk for the night, find more supplies and more gas. She needed a map. She needed a plan.

She drove and drove and tried not to listen to the hum of the prison that swelled in her heart.

It was getting dark by the time she pulled into another suburb. There were only a few houses standing, mostly half-finished frames and signs promising growth. There were three houses with cars parked haphazard in the yards and only one walker shuffling around outside. It would have to do.

She climbed out of the car slowly, watching the walker warily from the corner of her eye as she refueled from her gas can and started the process of siphoning fuel from the gray truck parked in the rose bushes. She kept her ears open, listening to the creature shuffle along broken pavement as she stared down the houses. She'd take the one on the left first; the toys strewn by the steps meant it had housed a family at some point. There might still be salvageable things inside.

She's go for the one further down the street after that, the one with the gaudy boat parked out front and the military ribbons on the porch. She might have luck getting a map in there. Then she'd hit the house across the street, though the lack of cars there and big red sign out front made her think it was just a show home. Wouldn't hurt to try.

Carol stood, satisfied, and pulled out her knife. With a quick flick of the wrist and a grunt she took down the walker that had finally shuffled up to the cars. She tossed it aside and set the gas can back in the trunk. She had a plan.

Getting into the house was easy; she's learned a thing or two about breaking in during the past years. She regretted how loud the sound of it was, making her still in the doorway, waiting for something to come stumbling out of the hall. She had her knife ready. But nothing came and the seconds stretched into minutes and she didn't have the time to waste. She got to work, checking the lower level of the house once before raiding the kitchen. There wasn't much to be found, but the few cans of beans and stale crackers could mean the difference between starving and surviving. There was a flat can of soda sitting on the counter top and a box of candy sitting in the drawer.

She thought of Michonne suddenly and she nearly doubled over, grasping the edge of the counter so hard her knuckles went white. She couldn't think of them, not now. As Hershel would say, she had a job to do. Thinking that didn't make her feel any better.

She took three deep breathes, trying to ease her hands of the countertop. Focus, she thought, focus. Go check the rest of the house. Look for weapons, look for bullets, and look for warm clothes. The cold would be setting in soon and she'd been left without anything other than the shirt on her back. There was work to be done.

She was just starting to calm when she heard the noise from behind her, making the hairs on her neck stand on end and her heart race. She pushed away from the counter and grabbed for the knife at her side in one fluid movement, whirling around so fast her vision spun for half a second. She threw up her arm, ready defend and kill.

"Carol?"

She nearly dropped the knife in her surprise.

"Morales?"


End file.
